


Bluebells and Honey

by obsollvant (jsoyda)



Category: Half-Life: VR but the AI is Self Aware
Genre: Ableism, Adoption, Angst, Anxiety, Child Abandonment, Child Neglect, Dissociation, He/Him and It/Its for Benry, He/Him and She/Her for Sunkist, He/Him and She/Her for Tommy, Hospitals, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Lullabies, Missing Persons, Nightmares, Not a game, Panic Attacks, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-13 19:48:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28783686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jsoyda/pseuds/obsollvant
Summary: Gordon's gone. He's just gone from his home and he left behind his child. Benry can't let harm come to him. Benry can't handle harm coming to another Freeman under its nose.
Comments: 25
Kudos: 53





	1. Honey in the rock

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to hurt so badly, but the payoff, hopefully, will be worth it in the end. Tags and summary will change as I go!  
> This is played off as 100% serious & it wasn't a game!  
> I've rewritten Chapter 1 & Chapter 2 as of February 2021, but updates will still be slow, so please have patience!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The start to the mystery at hand. Someone's left behind for Benry to find.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!Trigger warnings!!  
> Accidental child abandonment, accidental child neglect, anxiety, child harm, dissociation, missing persons, overstimulation, panic attacks, police involvement, & vague unsanitary conditions.  
> I've kept the child harm vague as I can, but you still know it's happening, ok? Take care of yourself please!
> 
> This first chapter is just to pull you in and sink in the stakes, please skip it if you're not ready for super angst!!  
> Thank you to my friends Doc and Elliott for beta reading what they could, I really appreciate the both of you!! <3<3<3

It’s been a few days since any of the Science Team last heard from Gordon.

Normally, that wouldn’t be much of a surprise; what happened to him was _deeply_ traumatic to him and they, the Science Team, were around and caused physical and mental stress to him themselves. Maybe Gordon needs to heal away from the Science Team, that’s totally possible! Maybe he needed time inside his home, alone, to get back into the rhythm of caring for Joshua, that’s _also_ totally possible!

But it was kinda _really_ dickish in the way he suddenly decided to have that space.

They had made plans to meet up two days ago, the entire Science Team in a Denny’s, and he didn’t show! He had _said_ he was coming, and he _didn’t!_ Like, who does that? Losers. Losers do that.

Gordon Loserman.

Without a call or text, either! No _“Ooh, sorry, my dick’s not fitting in my slacks”_ or _“Ooh, so sorry, my- my cringe kid is hungry I can’t come now, sad face.”_

Quite rude to leave your best bros hanging, in Benry’s very humble and honest opinion. _Especially_ Tommy. You just don’t leave Tommy hanging! Tommy texted him a day prior to confirm if he’s coming, and he had responded, saying, _"Yes I am, see you then."_

But when the day came, poof! He didn’t show!

Tommy had called, texted, and emailed. Nothing. Coomer called his house phone and got nothing as well. The day after, Benry and Bubby tag-teamed his phone numbers, calling and calling and calling, then texting, and finally, Benry _blew up_ his PSN with invites, memes, and nonsense. Nothing! He was _online,_ Benry could see clear as day that stupid green dot next to his icon! But there wasn’t a response, not even an indicator that he had even read the messages any of them sent.

“Fucking... jackass... can’t even pick up a phone every once in a while.... ignoring Tommy of all people... ignoring _me_ on PlayTation,” Benry grumbled, hands deep in his pockets as he slowly moseyed down the sidewalk in Gordon’s neighbourhood. He’s taking his _sweet time_ after finding a nice kicking rock to keep him company, stepping on every 3rd crack he sees as a fun little rule. It’s to keep his eyes down so he doesn’t have to make accidental eye contact with the racist Mr. Lane on his morning run. Maybe in hindsight, it wasn’t the smartest decision to send Benry, the Big Bad Evil Guy who looks the shiftiest out of the four remaining members, into Gordon’s _gated_ community. The community that fits the _“Suburbia Hell”_ description to a complete T: Every house looked pretty much the same, every lawn was well-manicured, rich green, and every _other_ lawn had a rosebush or similar with a middle-aged white woman tending to it. Everything was cookie-cutter, white, and _cishet._

Hell, Benry’s pretty sure there’s a homeowner association here.

It feels wrong for him to exist in such a place like this. How the hell did Feetman get accepted into this neighbourhood? All of Gordon’s neighbours are racist, white nuclear families and homophobic, white young couples in the _process_ of making a nuclear family. And Gordon? He’s a Black, queer, single dad, he doesn’t _fit_ the cookie-cutter mould.

Benry honestly thought he lived in a shitty, downtown apartment when he first met him.

Doesn’t he own his house, too? Maybe he got it through insurance. Or inheritance.

 _"Tomayto, tomahto, same difference,"_ thinks Benry as he looks up briefly to gauge his position. Can’t turn back now, he’s at the round-about that signals he’s 3/4ths of the way to _Maison de Freeman._

Some people are staring. That’s rude to do. Benry can’t blame them _entirely;_ his wardrobe is something of a malfunction in of itself: dark olive green trucker cap, cool black PlayStation hoodie, ash gray cargo shorts, deep pink knee-highs, and big **black** goth boots. In the middle of _summer._ Benry looks like some wannabe Emo 30-something granddad from the gas station’s bargain bin. Only $4.95, no refunds. Maybe he should’ve dressed up a little more, forgo the hoodie and wear the shirt underneath, or trade the shorts for some joggers. Change entirely into something more middle class. Boots stay, though. Boots _always_ stay, they’re pretty kick-ass and Benry has yet to pass up an opportunity to wear them.

It’s still rude to stare at him like that, makes him think his roots are growing in, or he’s done something egregiously wrong. He pulls the bill of his hat down further over his two eyes, futilely hiding from their gazes.

One, two, three... one, two, three, four...

He kicks his kickin’ rock one last time before it meets the bottom of a mailbox post with a soft _thunk_ that only slightly startled him. Benry looks up, reads the mailbox’s house number, and looked at the house. Baby blue with white trim, cookie-cutter architecture, rich green lawn, flower bush in front. _Maison de Freeman._ He should be home, given his 2009 Mazda 3 is still in the driveway.

The mailbox is crooked, tilting downwards awkwardly, something Benry pointed out some months ago he had _said_ he’d fix it when he recouped from Black Mesa properly. That was _ten days ago._ Loser- well- not exactly “loser” material, he’s trying. Benry knows he's trying. _"I should be less hard on him,"_ Benry thinks. Human minds are fragile things, maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, to send Benry into his cookie-cutter white Suburban neighbourhood to his house for a wellness check after he denies calls from them all left and right.

If he freaks out over Benry being here, it’s _his_ fault for not answering any of them for 3 days straight, leaving the alien hanging on PlayStation _and_ leaving Tommy hanging, too.

That settles it in his mind. He quickly makes his way up to the brown front door, walking on his tiptoes in wide strides, making soft monkey noises under his breath. He lifted the dumb _‘Welcome to our home’_ sign to snag the spare key dangling underneath, still making monkey noises. They’re best friends, of _course,_ Benry knows where he keeps his spare key. He slid the key in the hole smoothly but hesitated turning.

This isn’t a good idea, Benry, just _knock_ and- “YOOO, _FEETMAAAAN!!”_ Benry bellows, stepping into the chilled home, grinning as he does.

The inside of the house looked as you’d expect; cookie-cutter, white on beige, tan on gray. Bright fluorescent lights embedded in the ceiling, blinding Benry from the bounce-back from all the white _everywhere._

However, what was _unexpected_ was a visible puddle in the kitchen from the sink’s tap running. It also smelled _bad_ in the house, not Black Mesa bad, but like _something_ was left out of the fridge. It was _strong_ , sour and mouldy, and it rudely invaded his senses. The hoarse _wailing_ and _screaming_ from upstairs was equally unexpected, stabbing his senses even worse.

Something’s wrong.

Benry doesn’t have human instincts, at least he’s pretty _sure_ he doesn’t, but something in him _twists_ in such a painful way when he hears it.

A baby should never cry like that.

Something’s _horribly_ wrong. Gordon would never let _his_ baby cry like that.

A baby _should_ ** _never_** cry like that.

Benry barely registers what’s happening to its own body as it rushes to the source. His body thunders violently up the stairs, tripping along the landing into a wall but he recovered easy, pushing off said wall to break down a door. He picks up an infant from its soiled bed, cradling it close despite its incessant wiggling. Infant. Gordon’s. This- this is-

Joshua! This is _Joshua!_ Joshua, who’s crying himself raw. Joshua, who’s nowhere _close_ to being independent enough to be left alone in the house. Joshua, who looks to be in pain and something’s seeping through Benry’s hoodie and-

Sweet voice. Dark, low sweet voice is all over the place, it had been bubbling out of his mouth since he got to the stairs. Benry’s been leaving a trail of it, the unsteady orbs sweating their colours and the surfaces burbled. They’re heavy, sinking like stones to the ground and splashing all over the high carpet. Feetman would be pissed.

Freeman.

_Gordon!_

Where was Gordon?!

Why aren’t they here to comfort _their_ son?! To comfort-

Joshua. Joshua’s still crying. Joshua, who’s warm in his arms, red in the face, still demands from Benry. He needs attention. He’s wet and stinky. His bed is such a _mess_ of bodily fluids, the nursery itself smelled acidic and like shit. That’s not _safe._

He’s so small in Benry’s arms... he’s so defenceless on his own. Joshua is punching Benry in the chest, writhing in his pain, but it’s so _easy_ to hold him in its arms.

He needs a bath, like, yesterday. Benry stumbles into the guest bathroom, pulling a wash cloth from the linen closet on his way, not daring to put him down for a second. He runs the sink until it’s warm and pulls on the stopper. He gently peels Joshua of his soiled clothes and nappy, flinging them into the shower stall to deal with later. He carefully dips Joshua’s lower half into the sink bowl, into the warm water, and lightly scrubs with the rag. He’s crying again, he’s writhing, his face is so, _so_ red.

“I’m sorry,” Benry whispers, “I’m sorry.”

There was a rash all over Joshua’s body. It was so bad. It _looked_ so painful. Benry was as gentle as it could be with the wash cloth, apologizing sweetly and softly even as Joshua kicked and shrieked. The water was brown, the wash cloth was brown, Benry’s sleeves were soaked. It needed to drain the sink. Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in-

Benry calls 911. This is an emergency.

It’s picked up within the second ring, a pleasantly calm voice says something it doesn’t catch. It’s still not sure where Gordon was, but he wouldn’t allow Joshua’s wellbeing to get this bad. Gordon isn’t the most doting parent, but they do their best, Gordon isn’t a bad father, they’re just _new_. They would never- they wouldn’t-

The operator told it to breathe slowly. It did. Benry hadn’t realized it had begun to hyperventilate. It needs a doctor. Joshua. For Joshua, not for it. Static was muffling its brain, dampening its senses to focus _only_ on Joshua. The operator needs an address... Gordon’s address... Gordon-

Gordon. Gordon wouldn’t allow this.

Joshua’s wheezing in between cries. That’s not something babies should do, right? The 911 operator said no. Help is on the way, stay on the line.

Help is on the way. For Joshua. Good.

One, two, three, and one, two, three. One, two, three, four, and one, two, three, four.

“All done,” someone says sweetly, “no more bath, Joshie, all done!” That’s Benry’s voice, all squeaky and babbly. Benry’s speaking. Joshua’s still crying. He must be hungry. And cold now. Where was Gordon? Joshua looks even smaller without his onesie. He’s only semi-clean. Benry didn’t know which soap was safe to use, so Benry didn’t use soap.

Benry can’t feel its hands.

Shakily, Benry puts his phone in his pocket, turning on the speaker to maximum and poked out the microphone before picking up Joshua and dries him. He’s in so much pain, it can see it on his face.

It safely swaddles him into a blanket, a soft, fluffy one that won’t disturb his skin too much. It's pale cerulean with horses and lassos on it. He’s still naked underneath, but a blanket will do for now. When did it grab it? Doesn’t matter, Joshua’s hungry. He needed to stop crying, it was so _loud._ It’s piercing to the ears, and it hurts so _bad_. It didn't know how to get him to stop without sweet voice.

Sweet voice! Stupid, _stupid!_ Why didn’t you sweet voice it away!! _You’re such a fucking idiot, I swear, now you_ can’t _sweet voice it away, you’re on the phone with a_ human _who has a direct line to_ THEM. THEY _will take you away, lock you up, lock you back in-_

_“Calm... calm... calm down, Josh, it’s alright. It’s alright. Calm, calm...”_

It’s not alright. Gordon isn’t here, Joshua’s in pain and is hungry. He’s so red and warm.

_“Calm, calm, it’s alright. Soon there’ll be honey bees and rye...”_

Benry makes a small breast milk bottle, following the babysitter’s sheet Gordon left tacked to the fridge. Joshua likes his formula stirred, not shaken. If it’s too cold, he’ll spit-up after feeding. There’s a bottle-warmer, he uses it as instructed, and now they wait. Joshua's calming down, slowly.

The operator says something. Benry didn’t catch it, but it can’t stop now, not when the lullaby is working.

_“It’s alright, it’s alright, cry now, sunshine, soon there’ll be rainbows and butterflies...”_

Benry’s real careful around the puddle, not even daring to get any amount of water on its boots, not even to turn off the tap. It could slip with Joshua. Benry found the source of the sharp smell, it’s a packet of cheese on the counter, next to a plate of stale bread and ham.

_“Hush, hush... shhh, shhh, soon there’ll be milk and biscuits, and you’ll be warm,_

_“You’ll be fine, buttercup, you’ll be fine, bluebell. Promise you this... hush, hush...”_

The warmer dinged.

Joshua fussed at the artificial nipple, squirming, but Benry managed to get it into his tiny mouth. He ate it greedily. Big, deep gulps with barely a breath in between, so fast Benry was worried he might choke himself. He had to pull away the nipple intermittently and shush him gently between those gaps. Joshua squirmed when there wasn’t any more milk left to drink down, face twisting as a soft, hoarse cry left his lips.

It made another one. Just in case he was still hungry.

The operator confirmed help is still on the way.

Benry sits numbly in the living room, cradling and feeding Joshua slowly his second bottle. He’s so small. He’s so _defenceless._ His breathing is fast, and he can hear every inhale, it sounds like Joshua’s about to-

Where was Gordon? The smell of something left out. The TV was showing the PlayStation home screen. There’s a cup of juice on the coffee table.

It’s tipped over and the carpet’s stained.

The spill looks completely dry.

Something’s missing. _Someone’s_ missing.

Benry pulls away the empty second bottle and Joshua fusses. Benry fixes his blanket, making it a little tighter around his arms, and pulls it up to his chin.

“All done,” it coos hoarsely, “no more milk.” Joshua’s face twists. Benry’s heart twists.

The paramedics come inside fast, the commotion startling Joshua from his lullaby-induced calmness. They have a stretcher for an adult, but there is no adult, just Joshua. Big bed for a tiny baby. That’s funny.

The police came inside next, weapons drawn for an intruder. That’s not so funny. Benry can’t lift its hands in surrender, it has to hold and rock Joshua. The medics ask if he’s the one who called. Benry nodded while trying desperately to re-quell Joshua's glass-shattering cries. The 911 operator on the phone says something, but Benry’s too focused and too out of it to catch it.

The medics gently coax Joshua out from Benry’s arms. Joshua shrieks and kicks at the one holding him. _"He has a rash everywhere, you might be touching a sore,"_ it wants to say. Instead, what comes out its mouth is nothing more than a strangled whine.

Benry gets up to follow them as they exit the house with Joshua, but another medic and a few police officers stop it. They're speaking, pushing it back down on the couch. It can’t hear them, the static is so loud. He needs to be with Joshua to make sure he’s safe. They’re talking at it, someone is shaking its shoulder. They’re talking at Benry and Benry can’t hear them. He mumbles _‘I don’t know, I don’t know’_ over, and over as they try to pry another answer from him. It's too bright.

Benry needs to call someone.

A polite and nice officer hands it their phone, already in the phone app for him to dial.

He calls Tommy automatically, breathing erratically. It can't remember its breathing exercises?

Tommy answers after the third ring. “Hi, Dr. Coolatta speaking. :)"

Benry lets out a low whine, gasping on its words. He doesn’t know what he’s saying- doesn’t know what he’s _trying_ to say, only choked sobs exit his mouth. It’s so hard to think right now.

It needs to keep Joshua safe-

The paramedic takes the phone from Benry's iron grip, making him panic more. Tommy-

It needs help. His breathing is choked, he’s choking, the paramedic is guiding him into a position, a recovery position. It can’t hear anything-

There’s a weight on its body, a blanket-

_Click-click, **flash.** _

The flash startles him, it blinds him temporarily. It’s too white. Too light.

Too sterile. It’s helpless.

_Click-click, **flash.** _

It can’t see. It’s too bright. It’s too dark.

_Click-click,_

Not again, not again-

**_Flash._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to fucking HURT before it gets better. AND IT WILL GET BETTER, I PROMISE. This first chapter is MEANT to hurt, but I'm still very, very sorry for the pain and panic.  
> For y'all's sakes; JOSHUA IS FINE! He is alive! I promise!! I won't kill him off EVER, and he will not receive any more harm!  
> This AU has been plaguing me since December, I plan on strapping in for the long haul and I expect to treat this motherfucker like my baby. It's been so long since I've written stuff, like years long. I have so much planned, it's gonna be slow-going though, so have patience please!!


	2. Out of the oven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Benry waits patiently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!Trigger Warnings!!  
> Nightmare sequence, gore within nightmare, suffocation/choking, intrusive thoughts, unreality, dissociation, anxiety attacks, police ableism, & hospitals.
> 
> Thank you to my friends Ángel and Elliott for beta reading!!

_Screaming. He was inside of Gordon’s cookie-cutter, blue and white house with the bright fluorescent ceiling lights blinding him, and he heard screaming._

_Benry barely registers what’s happening to its own body as it rushes to the source; thundering violently up the stairs, tripping along the landing, and pushing itself off the wall to break down a door. The room was blurry, vaguely coloured with a crib at the far wall, but something was writhing on the red floor between Benry and the crib._

_It was Gordon. He was holding something, his back to Benry. He was crying out loudly, writhing on the high carpet of the bedroom and holding–_

_There was blood. There was so much blood on the floor, seeping into the high carpet at an alarming rate._

_His hand is gone. The room darkened rapidly, a blurry nursery giving way to a crystal clear, tiny concrete room with an empty medkit on the far wall._

_The door slammed shut behind Benry, and slowly, Gordon lolled over onto his back, face pale and stricken with tears, blood, and blind_ **_rage._ **

_“How could you,” Gordon growled, rolling over to face Benry and getting on his knees, slowly, holding his bleeding stump, “You did this to me, you motherfucker. I thought I could trust you!”_

_Gordon raised his stump to Benry, showing the sawed-off bone and the lacerated flesh. It was nauseating. He felt something in his hand and he looked down._

_A bloodied bowie knife. He cut off Gordon’s arm, personally._

_“You took my- my HAND. And- and you took my baby... you took him from me!” Gordon wailed and shook as he edged closer._

_Not from him, that’s not what happened!!_

_“You- you monster...!!” Gordon heaved, curling in on himself. That’s when the smell hit him. It was sweet, acrid, and sharp. Like-_

_Like Black Mesa._

_Gordon quickly lunged for Benry with his rotten face, his skeletal hand digging into his legs and torso as he clawed upwards, skeleton prominent through taut flesh, and eyes full of_ **HATE HATE HATE–**

Benry awoke terrified, nauseous, and covered in sweat.

He breathed harshly and gripped the blanket in cold, clammy fists. Drippy ivory and grievous indigo sweet voice stumbled out of his mouth. He coughed and gasped, spitting it out in an attempt to breathe again and rid his mind of that horrible, horrible nightmare. He breathed in and out.

“Fuuck,” he whined, sniffling, and got up. It’s barely dawn outside, a sliver of blue inching its way further into the coal-coloured sky. Early morning’s better than no morning, might as well get ready, maybe take a shower and floss. He has somewhere to be later in the day. He crawled out of bed and groped around the darkness for his overnight bag, fishing for clean clothes, toiletries, and a smaller bag before he made the trek from Tommy’s place to a 24/7 gym across the street that thought they were homeless.

It’s been two days since he found Joshua alone in Gordon’s home. Two whole days he doesn’t remember clearly, if at all. He knows where he is, thankfully, in Tommy’s tiny house that’s hitched on the back of his truck, and he knows Gordon hasn’t been found yet, but not much after that call.

The gym lets him in easy, they always do, the changing area completely empty. _Awesomesauce._ Tossing his clean clothes over a shower stall’s door, he dropped the bag to the floor and undressed himself quickly, throwing his dirty clothes in the tiny bag. "Shower time, shower time," Benry chants softly as he side-steps into the stall and turns on the water with nary a care. He should’ve cared.

_“FUCK!!”_

The waiting room was oppressively cold.

There was a clock that was _tick-tick-ticking_ in his ear, and people were all around. People in pain, people with a cough, people in white coats. The room was too white, blinding him with their powerful fluorescent lights, and it smelled _overwhelmingly_ like rubbing alcohol. It made him anxious.

Someone touched his forearm and his head snapped a little too quickly to face them, eyes wide behind reflective sunglasses. Tommy. It was just Tommy. “Sorry,” Benry mumbled, untangling his sore hands from each other for Tommy to hold his right one in her too-warm left. “It’s okay, Benry. I know- I- you can wait in the car if you need,” She assures, gently squeezing his hand.

Benry shook his head and felt Tommy’s knuckles gently. They’re soft, defined, and there were four of them Benry could reach with his clubbed thumb. Her hand was warm, too, in a way that felt like honey chicken and aureolin. Sunkist moves towards him, gently clicking over and taking over half of Benry’s lap with his face.

“Hey, boy,” Benry pets him behind the ear in greeting, smilingly thinly, “I’m that uh... I’m that obvious, huh?” Sunkist brought up a paw to rest on his thigh, tail thumping twice against the tile. Yes, he is. Tommy snickered a little, rubbing his calloused knuckles with her thumb.

“Wow, laughing at me? You’re so mean, Tom-meany,” Benry chuckles which set Tommy off more. “No, I’m not- I’m not mean! But I like mean people,” Tommy answered, smiling with dimples. Benry huffed, reiterating the fact that she’s mean and pressed into her shoulder. Tommy snorted deeply, almost honking at Benry’s reaction, which just made his cheeks go red.

They’re waiting together to see Joshua in a sterile little bed, safe. Benry’s bouncing his leg nervously, and hearing the _thud-thud-thud_ of his heel against the tile is nice almost, he likes hearing the belt that’s loose on that boot clink against the spikes, too. It’s hunched over, squeezed into a small, plastic chair that’s making its butt go numb with a dog’s face in his lap and a friend to his left. Benry’s waiting patiently. Waiting for someone to call a name that isn’t quite his, so he can see a baby that definitely isn’t his. A baby that’s nowhere close to being the same _species_ as him.

It makes him nervous for some reason. More so than it not remembering anything from the past two days. Benry doesn’t have human instincts, but he has _Benry_ instincts and something’s _itching_ at him, saying he needs to protect him, needs to care for him. It weighed heavily on his consciousness.

It isn’t sure it can, though, since it failed so spectacularly at protecting its friends from itself, the _big bad boss,_ and it had got Gordon’s arm cut off! Anything could happen to him under Benry’s care! Especially since it isn’t human, it could mess up. What if in his goal to protect him, he harms him? What if he doesn’t recognize something and Joshua ends up– what if he gives something to Joshua and–

 _“Stop that, not now,”_ Benry thinks, _“Please, please.”_

Begging its stupid brain not to dredge up those thoughts hadn’t worked and scenarios flashed in its brain, full, vivid clips played over and over. Benry shook, focusing on thinking about _anything_ else. Dragging its free hand over its face, skewing its glasses as it scrubbed its cream-coloured skin pink, trying, trying, _trying_.

“In for seven, hold for four, out for eight, Benry,” Tommy says, squeezing its hand. Benry jerks a nod and tries to breathe with Tommy’s squeezing without crying. She helps. Sunkist presses forth into Benry’s lap, pushing up so she stands on him and licks at its hand, breathing hot, heavy breaths. He helps, too.

 _“You’re here. Not there. You’re good. Not bad. You’re not bad. You would never hurt Joshua,”_ Benry thinks so hard, repeating those lines in its head in a mantra.

Feel the cold of the room and the warm hand yours. Hear Tommy’s pulse through her shoulder and the clock ticking. Don’t feel the eyes of others, _don’t see a pool of blood, or feel the pain of gunfire. Don’t see Joshua like that, don’t see Gordon’s face full of_ **_HATE HATE HATE–_ **

Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in _—don’t cry, don’t cry—_ breathe out. Calm down. Calm down, Benry, it’s fine, it’s cerulean blue, don’t worry. Taste the raspberry blue and blueberry. 

Slowly, he nods, squeezing Tommy’s hand twice. He’s okay. Sunkist gets pets under his chin and Benry twitches a smile as he gives a broad lick to its nose. “... Thanks, Tommy.”

“Don’t mention it.” Tommy smiles at it, her dimples poking in and crow’s feet becoming far more pronounced. Benry moved closer to Tommy, shifting him and the chair closer to Tommy’s, so they pressed together at their arms and shoulders. He pets Sunkist idly, allowing her to stay where she is and half-smother him as he surrounds himself in warm gold. Benry’s temple knocks gently against Tommy’s soft shoulder, receiving a little kiss on his hat and extra weight to support.

Together, they’ll wait patiently.

“Benjamin Freeman?”

Benry roused sharply, a full-body jerk at hearing the name they were both waiting for, so suddenly tore through its light sleep. It wasn’t _his_ name, nor Tommy’s, but it's a name that got them in. To see Joshua in a little hospital crib with baby pink polka-dot sheets in a blindingly white room. It’s identity theft, falsifying documents, it’s _illegal._

“Tom- Tommy–”

“I see them. Come on, sleepyhead.” Benry accepts Tommy’s help at pulling him from the tiny, tiny seat with a small groan. Both of their eyes caught on a nurse that wasn’t there before in a white coat and fun, kid-themed scrubs, calling for “him” again. They made him nervous, so Benry fixed his appearance, grabbed a hold of Sunkist’s leash, and entwined his hand in Tommy’s, forcing his eyes to focus better.

The nurse probably wasn’t expecting a two-person party, and a dog, but they’ll live the same way he’s going to live with his illegal misdeeds.

“Hi, I’m Dr. Powell,” they shake hands with them both, “I’m overseeing Joshua’s care. Which one of you is, uh, Mr. Freeman?”

“I am,” Benry says gripping Sunkist’s leash, “is- is, um, Josh alright?”

“Yes, he’s fine. We’re monitoring his vitals closely, but they all seem stable as of now,” Dr. Powell states with a smile. Every worry Benry had over Joshua washed away at those words. He’s alive. He barely paid attention to Dr. Powell after that confirmation. Tommy squeezes his hand and he listens to Dr. Powell ask him a question. He answers, and both of them enter a clean back and forth as they walk to Joshua’s holding room. Benry looks at Tommy and squeezes her hand once as they talk. Tommy squeezes back, giving him a small smile.

Joshua’s alive. He arrived at the hospital as an emergency case, since he wasn't calming down, was wheezing, and was malnourished. His rash has gone down, his wheezing is nonexistent, and he's sleeping well.

He’s 6-and-a-half weeks old, 5lbs and 2oz, and he’s _alive._ Apparently, Benry had done right by feeding him while they waited.

It was a miracle that Benry didn’t burst into tears at the sight of him.

Joshua was hooked up to only one machine and dressed in a corn onesie with a matching cap. Of course, he fusses at being disturbed, but Benry, without any forethoughts, had dropped Sunkist’s leash and Tommy’s hand to scoop Josh up gently. He fits so nicely in his arms, he's so tiny. “Hi, Josh, hi,” Benry whispers, holding his head with his right hand and his bottom in his left, criss-crossing his arms almost. It felt right.

He’s tiny, pudgy, and has the _cutest fucking_ pink cheeks Benry's ever seen. Joshua looks like his dad, but different: he has freckles along his nose like his dad, and curly, onyx hair. But he has hazel eyes that're more bistre than dark olive, and pale, _pale_ yellow-toned skin, almost like Benry's compared to Gordon's. But what really catches Benry's eye are the patches of wine red, one above his brow, and another below his eye.

"Hey, uh, what's, uh, what's this? On him?" Benry asked, nodding to Joshua's face with worry.

"Oh, that! It's a port wine stain. It's a birth mark that's completely harmless," Dr. Powell answers, "It'll become darker as he grows older, but aside from social bullying, he'll be fine."

Benry nodded, focusing back on Joshua as he squeaked a yawn.

Tommy and Dr. Powell continued talking to each other, tuned out completely by Benry, but Sunkist nosed at Benry's leg, whining. "You want to see him, don't you, girl?" A soft woof is his answer, so he sits down in the guest chair beside the crib, which was more uncomfortable than the waiting rooms, and lets her sniff at Joshua.

“Careful, he’s fresh. Like a loaf of bread,” Tommy chides from across the room. Benry’s watching Sunkist intensely anyway, watching his tongue peek out the slightest bit. He tries to go in to _lick_ Joshua, inching forward to his cheek. _“No.”_ Benry says sternly, staring down Sunkist with intensity. Sunkist backs off immediately, playing off the licking-move to be a yawn. Dr. Powell snickered, remarking he’s certainly his dad.

His dad. Benry? Benry, Joshua’s dad? Laughable, but it settles in Benry’s head somewhere and warms him up head to toe. It makes him feel more alive than Gordon ever did. Yeah, Benry could play daddy for Gordon until he gets back. He doesn’t understand human babies yet, but he’s going to get Joshua. He _will_ get humans for Joshua. For _Gordon._

Joshua fusses, stretching out and smacking Benry’s chest with a tiny, tiny fist. Benry shushes him gently, bouncing him in place with a gentle pat to his bottom. He’s so _small._ Was he smaller when Gordon held him for the first time? Will he remember Gordon at all...?

The thought twists in Benry’s gut painfully.

**Author's Note:**

> This entire work is in direct retaliation to the works where Benry harms Joshua in some way. If you enjoy those works, I want to cause you physical harm.
> 
> Open to critiques, guesses, and general engagement on Tumblr!  
> obsollvant.tumblr.com


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